


how to kill with a word and cut to the quick.

by lolitalynne



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Overstimulation, for real use proper lube kids, i've never seen one evil dead, inappropriate use of retardant jelly, just put me in the grave, love makes ash uncomfortable, so don't @ me for how this is ooc ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 08:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19390642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolitalynne/pseuds/lolitalynne
Summary: Eventually, he finds he’s so caught up that suddenly he’s doing something he knows he shouldn’t; but Dwight doesn’t stop him and that’s how it starts.





	how to kill with a word and cut to the quick.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agalnamedval](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agalnamedval/gifts).



If there’s one thing that Ash has noticed about their fearless leader is that he is, one hundred percent, not fearless at all.  
  
He won’t go so far as to say Dwight is a coward, since that’s not the truth at all, but he lacks the same kind of bravado that can be found in some of the others. At face value, Dwight Fairfield is unimpressive. Ash doesn’t want to think badly of the kid, but that’s the only conclusion he can immediately jump to when he first meets him. This world is the same shit rolled into a different package and, in some ways, it feels safer than dealing with Deadites. He feels like he has an advantage in the same way Bill does; both veterans of their own kind of wars—though, in Bill’s case it was a literal war before he started fighting the undead. Either way, the point was the same: they knew how to survive dangerous entities. Dwight, well, he looked about as strong as a wet paper towel. But again, that was all surface level, and Ash always hoped that his initial judgments would be wrong. Not that he’s any kind of optimist these days, but it’s always nice to find something that surprises you when nothing else seems to anymore. He’s been pleasantly surprised with Dwight ever since they started growing closer—they’re far beyond any platonic meaning of "close" now, if he’s being honest, which has actually been the strangest development the past few months (or what he perceives as months) have brought.

He likes to see how Dwight handles various situations. He’s not entirely strategic and he’ll sometimes rely on the others for that, but he is eager and he is smart. There are still moments where he can’t bring himself to move, when the heartbeat seems too loud in his ears and he’s frozen in time. But there are other times where Ash can literally see the wheels of heroism turning in their leader’s head. That’s why he’s the leader, after all. He knows how to formulate a team and how to keep everyone’s spirits held high. Both of these are good qualities, admirable, and Ash knows a thing or two about leading. He’s glad he doesn’t have to do it here, despite how much his massive ego suffered at first. Initially, he’s not really so thrilled to be here and to have so many others that were going to be counting on him to figure out what he was doing. His first trial had gone just about as well as he expected it to in that he’d hunted down and slaughtered almost immediately in some sort of hazing ritual. He can’t really compare his prior experiences to being slammed on a meat hook and put on display day in and day out. The pain felt here is still very real, no matter how hauntingly ethereal this plane may be. He’s given up on really giving a shit about going home at this point—killers, Deadites, what was the difference?

He likes a great deal of the other survivors; Nea’s 'take no shit' attitude, Ace’s boisterous manner and penchant for gambling, and Feng’s smart little mouth to name a few of his favorites. He finds that he likes them all as time goes by, but he can see that Dwight just needs something more. He needs someone that’s not going to coddle him like the others seemed prone to—not that he doesn’t deserve that, of course he does—but someone that will tell him he’s doing a good job while still giving him shit about how dumb he can be. He’s noticed the two that give him that the most are David and Meg, which is a nice start. So he takes to patting him on the back, sometimes hard enough to make Dwight lurch forward and yelp, and telling him that he’s a dumbass. It’s followed by veiled compliments, a ruffle of his hair that knocks his glasses askew, and an arm over his shoulder. What follows after that tradition begins is something that can only be called an actual appreciation that later segues into real friendship.  
  
He never expected to get close enough to Dwight to the point that he actually started worrying about him. But some days Dwight is out in a trial and Ash isn’t with him to take any aggro and he wonders if the kid will make it back alright. Dwight doesn’t need someone to fret over him, he needs someone to bolster his confidence, but that’s easier said than done. If there’s one thing he’s learned since he’s gotten older is that connecting with others is difficult for him. It doesn’t come easily, not like it might have when he was younger. But before Ash knows it he’s pacing at the edge of the campfire waiting for Dwight to breach the line of trees safely. Since when did he get so pathetic? That’s what it feels like to him, like he’s losing his grip on the tough guy exterior he’s cultivated for years and this is making him soft. In reality, that’s not actually the case, and caring about someone doesn’t make anyone weak, but he’s left wondering just when it happened. Dwight just seemed to be like that; he was a man that endeared himself to those around him and, unfortunately, Ash got caught up in that charm.

Eventually, he finds he’s so caught up that suddenly he’s doing something he knows he shouldn’t; but Dwight doesn’t stop him and that’s how it starts.

They’ve since fallen into a comfortable relationship; how deep it goes Ash has no idea but he’s willing to ride it out for however long Dwight wants it—and by "it" he means, specifically, his dick. Whether Dwight had been too emotionally wrung out the first time to really deny him or if he actually needed it as bad as it seemed he had, Ash doesn’t know for sure. It hardly seems to matter anymore. Regardless, he knows this is something Dwight should have gone to a younger member of the team for, but he won’t lie and say he’s not smug over the fact the the kid chose him. He also realizes he should probably stop calling him "kid" as it’s a very strong reminder that there is a great deal of distance between them. Again, it’s not something that’s seemed to matter to Dwight. The same as it hadn’t mattered that he had zero experience before all this and a dark part of Ash was incredibly smug over that as well.

The more they engaged, the more confident Dwight became and Ash has been intrigued by that side of him; especially since Dwight is so easily embarrassed over almost everything. It's gotten to a point where Dwight has no trouble asking for what he wants, even if it’s still with a blush high in his cheeks. In some ways, Dwight reminds him a bit of himself when he first started fighting Deadites. He was cowardly then, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Ash knew his weak points as much as Dwight knew his own but the difference was that Dwight had yet to figure out how to pull out that meager little light of bravery and turn it into a fire. Perhaps becoming more bold in his sexual endeavors will inspire him to find that courage. Maybe, Ash thinks, the things they do away from the campfire will be good for his performance during trials.

As if thinking this way will absolve him of the fact that he _likes_ when Dwight breathes his name all soft and warm into his ear; _likes_ the way he arches his back and his muscles cord underneath his smooth pale skin; _likes_ how those doe-brown eyes look up at him through thick lashes while he’s got Ash’s cock halfway down his throat—  
  
Jesus H. Christ, was he in fucking _trouble_.

A trial is drawing to a close, they can all feel it at the campfire, and Ash has been sitting listening to Kate play guitar for what seems like hours. Time moves so slowly and it’s nerve-wracking at best. He knows he’ll want to take care of Dwight when he gets back, but it won’t be in the way he probably needs—Ash isn’t really the best at providing comfort in the traditional sense. There was no telling what state the kid would be in when he got back and whether or not he’d want Ash’s particular brand of consolation. He hasn’t turned it down yet but, even still, he’s not going to force him if all he wants to do is curl up and lick his wounds. He thinks that many of the others here are just too young to have to be going through this and in a far off way he’s reminded of Brandy. Not that he really wants to be thinking about his own kid while he’s fucking someone that’s only a bit older than her (granted, he has no idea how old Dwight _actually_ is and, like with everything else, does it matter anyway?).

Jake appears first, stumbling but otherwise free of blood; he looks barely rattled, as usual. Ace is next and he’s clutching his shoulder, breath a little staggered as he stops briefly, hands on his knees, to steady himself. Claudette is shaken and that much is to be expected of her, and she wrings her hands but breathes a sigh of relief to be back. He tries not to seem like an anxious dog waiting for his owner, but as Ace comes to sit on the log next to him, he casts the man a glance.  
  
"You look like shit," he comments, offering an obnoxious smirk.  
  
Ace chuckles and shrugs broadly, "You should see the other guy."

There’s a silence that seems to stretch on forever before Ace hunches over and Ash can see his wound has fully closed. He also knows that the mental damage has already been done and he’d be feeling the phantom pains of the hook for some time afterwards. He loses himself in the campfire again until he hears Meg call for Dwight and he straightens up instinctively. Before Ash can even ask, Ace leans towards him, mutters something about the Doctor being a relentless hunter this time, and a serious look passes over his face. His eyes seek Dwight out and travel from head to toe; he notes a far away, hollow look behind the other’s eyes and that his fingers are still twitching. The Doctor was a rough one. His electricity was a constant that pulsed along the ground and he could send volts of it directly through you that had been known to rattle you down to your bones. He knows Dwight’s voice will be hoarse from screaming and his body will be aching.  
  
He doesn’t get up, not right away, as some of the others speak to Dwight softly. He laughs as usual, though it’s weak, and ducks his head when David ruffles his hair. Ash watches him and Ace takes notice, his smile is impish; Ash elbows the man in the stomach. Dwight has never kept anything from the others but part of them always tried to be subtle. He knows it’s not a big deal, plenty of others were hooking up for one reason or another, but he’d figured Dwight would prefer they be covert. Apparently this isn’t the case right now, because his eyes flicker to Ash after everyone is done fussing over him and heads over to him immediately. Ash sits almost rigid and gets ready to say something annoying but Dwight reaches out and stops him. All it takes is one hand curling towards him for Ash to lift his own and silently take the invitation. He grins at Dwight, which makes their leader turn away, embarrassment evident as his pale skin flushes. He can _hear_ the smirk Ace’s voice when he starts speaking and he whips around to smack him square in the chest with his prosthetic; it leaves the other man coughing. At any other time he’d make jokes, but jokes weren’t what Dwight needed.  
  
What he needs right now is a comfort that only Ash can provide.

When they’re far enough away and in a spot that both of them know well by now, Ash is quick to tug their combined hands to let Dwight know he’s there. The leader feels distant, a million miles away, and the reassurance has him blinking towards Ash, brown eyes dropping to their still clapsed hands. He lets the other man go carefully and, quite uncharacteristically, Ash doesn’t say anything as he sits down on the stump of a tree long since fallen. There’s another tree at his back and he leans against it rather nonchalantly and easy; Dwight still looks lost, so Ash does what he does best—he tries to lighten the mood.  
  
"Come on then," he grins lasciviously and tilts his head as he pats his knees. "Sit in daddy’s lap and tell him what’s wrong."

 _That_ snaps Dwight out of his foggy daze and he shoots a disgusted glare towards the older man. It just makes Ash laugh. He knows full well that Dwight finds the daddy thing to be strange and almost uncomfortable at times, but he also knows that he gets into it when he’s too drunk in the moment to even think about being embarrassed by it. Truthfully, it tickles Ash as well but in a much different way. It’d started as just joke, his usual humor bleeding into a situation where it likely shouldn’t have (aka when he’d been buried in Dwight to the hilt and holding his hips steady while he asks the boy just how bad he wants to cum), but he’d felt Dwight shudder around him, had seen the hitch in his breath, and figured he couldn’t have hated it. Even now he can see the way Dwight sucks in a small breath and he feels victorious. It’s distracted him from his own mind, if only for a moment, which had been the goal.

Dwight doesn’t say anything, but he does do as he’s told. He slides into Ash’s lap and settles into place like he absolutely belongs there (and Ash could argue, were he a different man of course, that he absolutely _does_ ), knees bracketing the other man’s hips. Finally he lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing, but the sound is anything but relieved. He doesn’t really look like he wants to talk about it and Ash isn’t going to push him; rather, he tips his head back and rests it against the tree behind him. Dwight is something like a bird, Ash remembers thinking—if you held him too tightly you were going to crush him. He’s all fragile bones and delicate wings. He knows that Dwight isn’t as breakable as he appears but it’s hard to think otherwise when he’s seen just how easily Dwight can fall apart. Dwight drops his elbows to Ash’s shoulders, which has Ash refocusing his gaze, and he’s the first one that leans in for a kiss. No prompting required.

At some point in his life, Ash was a man that had been as overcome with romance as the next. A man in his twenties with a beautiful girlfriend and, later, a man with a 'wife' and daughter (as much as Candace could be considered his wife, anyway). He doesn’t really know what to call this, isn’t really interested in long-term relationships when their lives are so dangerous they could be lost at any moment, but he can’t say Dwight means nothing. He means enough for Ash to go through all this. He wraps his arms around the younger man’s waist, pulling him in, and licking at his lower lip until Dwight opens up for him. It’s a different level of intimacy and holds quite a bit more weight than anything else, he thinks. And Dwight kisses like every time is the last—like at any moment their spider god would snatch him away and he’d never be able to do it again—all heated breath and swipes of his tongue; he tastes sweet every damn time and Ash has no idea how he manages that.

Subconsciously, Dwight rocks in Ash’s lap, a quiet sound caught between them and it makes Ash tighten his hold to keep him in place. He’s teasing, Dwight understands that, and he laughs in the back of his throat when Dwight makes an annoyed sound, biting at his bottom lip. The leader pulls back first and he’s pouting but slightly breathless. Ash offers nothing but a cheeky grin and Dwight clucks his tongue, hands sliding down to rest against Ash’s chest while he leans back. Ash notes that his fingers have stopped twitching and his eyes are lively again. Whatever the Good Doc had done to him had been enough to rattle his brain and it was his assumption that he’d given him the _special_ Shock Treatment. He doesn’t blame Dwight for being less than himself if that were the case.

He holds Dwight still for a moment before he concedes and allows him to continue where he’d left off. Doesn’t mean he’s going to sit still while Dwight rocks his hips, that’s for sure, and he reaches up to tug the tie from around Dwight’s neck. It falls between them and Ash peels back the slightly stiff collar so he can attach his lips to Dwight’s throat. It’s one of his many weaknesses and the first nip of his teeth elicits a shudder and a sharp breath. Ash hums against the warmth of the younger man’s neck, moving his hands to grip slender hips, angling the other’s body so he can slide them together just a bit better. Dwight is always eager and responsive and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing in this world right now; knowing that he’s already working himself up, is likely already hard…and Dwight has the goddamn _audacity_ to claim he’s not sexy.

There’s something being suddenly pressed into his hand and, with one last drag of his teeth, he pulls away and looks down at it. Recognizing it as the retardant jelly they use for those maps they sometimes find in a trial, Ash’s brows draw up; this little shit came prepared. Well, _fuck_. Just how eager was he to already have this on his person? Not that the idea isn’t a serious ego boost, but just, well fuck. Dwight looks at him and cocks his head while Ash pantomimes like he’s searching his body for something, patting down pockets that don’t exist. Dwight knows he can’t be looking for that weird purple lubricant they use since Dwight has already produced it—someone would be angry later when they went to find it and couldn’t—so Dwight is baffled by the action.  
  
"What are you looking for?" he asks, slightly tilting away while he starts unbuttoning his own shirt. The grin he recieves is devious, lecherous at best, and he already knows he’s going to hate the wiseass remark he’s about to get.  
  
"Your dignity."

Ash is so sure he has the upper hand, that Dwight is going to bow and blush and get all awkward but the leader simply pauses for an almost too-long moment. He scoffs loudly, a kind of haughty look overcoming his face while he reaches to start undoing the other man’s holsters, fingers deftly sliding leather through buckles. "See if you can find my virginity while you’re at it," he quips, a dry sarcastic remark that makes Ash positively giddy with amusement. "Maybe this time I’ll give it to someone that actually deserves it." The belts fall loose and Dwight surveys Ash’s face to make sure he hasn’t actually crossed a line. What he sees instead are lips that turn up in a roguish grin.

The other man leans forward, slides his hands up and underneath Dwight’s thighs, settling right before the curve of his ass. Dwight makes a small sound and the tension in his shoulders eases a little—Ash knows he must have been anxious about the comment but it’d been funny, if not a little bit true. All in all, he finds it strangely charming. It was nice to see Dwight comfortable enough with him to make a joke like that; plus the reminder that he was, indeed, the first man Dwight had ever been with was enough to make him feel even more arrogant than he usually did. He urges Dwight to sit up on his knees so he can undo the other’s worn leather belt. Dwight gives up on his shirt halfway, too focused on what Ash is doing and the rate at which he’s doing it. The button and zipper follow quickly, leaving Dwight reeling. Ash half expects to find Dwight wearing nothing underneath and he’s almost disappointed when he tries to tug the pants down only to find shorts in his way. Bummer.

For right now he stops to help finish with the uniform issue shirt, pushing it down Dwight’s shoulders and off entirely, allowing it to flutter to the ground at their feet. The Entity is good at healing wounds and Dwight is perfectly pristine in that regard, save for that scar on his knee from his life prior but that was inconsequential. Ash always likes to run his hands along the other’s skin, across the dips and planes of his chest and the sharp angles of his hips; he marvels at how soft Dwight is. He doesn’t this time, just briefly stares at Dwight’s shoulder where he knows Dwight can always feel the phantom sensation of the hook that slices through him almost every day. His hands go back to their other task, dipping into the waistband so he can ease both pants and shorts down just enough to make room.

They won’t fuck like this, he’ll get Dwight’s pants off completely before that, but there was always some reservation about being completely naked at first on Dwight’s part (alright and maybe a little on his as well because how do you compare to this?). Dwight’s self-conscious, Ash had seen that a mile away just by looking at him, and while his confidence has improved, he still isn’t fully comfortable at the start. No, it isn’t until he’s a panting mess that he worries less and less about whether he’s dressed or not. Oftentimes he gets so wrapped up that Ash can barely get himself out of his pants before Dwight is moaning for it. Again, very sexy, whether the kid believes that or not.  
  
Ash leans in then, pulls Dwight closer once more, and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the long-gone ghost of trials past on his shoulder. Dwight gets his arms around Ash’s neck and feels flushed all over, this time it’s definitely with embarrassment. Chin resting on the younger man’s shoulder, he grins to himself as he dips into the jar to coat his fingers in that weird purple lube; he can feel Dwight’s erection pressing into his stomach. He can’t really help making a comment, even as he reaches down to spread lube against Dwight’s entrance, applying only the barest amount of pressure—he knows Dwight can easily take two of them immediately, but that is reserved for days when he really can’t wait anymore. He still seems to have _some_ patience about him.

"Someone’s an eager little kitten," he says finally, lightly biting at the junction where neck meets shoulder. It’s a combination, he thinks, of that (one of Dwight’s more infamous erogenous zones) and the pet name that has Dwight moaning already. As dumb as he might feel saying it, as it had all been part of the joke, he can’t deny that seeing Dwight react to it isn't well worth it. Besides, it’s started to grow on him.

Ash isn’t as crass as he wants to be, has some tact when it comes to Dwight because he knows if he doesn’t he’s going to make the kid turn and leave, but he wants to be. He’s not really used to being around people that don’t know him that well and can’t handle the things he says. Dwight, he thinks, is way too pure-hearted a guy to poison with his toxic bullshit from the get-go. So he actually tries to hold his tongue when it comes to moments like this because, as Dwight has said himself, he did _choose_ Ash, and there must be a reason for that. He thinks that taking some amount of verbal abuse isn’t it, especially since the leader seems to like praise more than anything else. Ash grants him that much (which should have been a very clear indication that Dwight was special to him in _some_ way).

He takes his time working a single digit into Dwight, listens for the hitch in his breath and is rewarded when the younger man spreads his legs a bit wider—as much as the stump will allow, at least. He doesn’t need to see what he’s doing, has done it a dozen times before, but there’s some amount of pleasure he derives from watching Dwight take his fingers so easily. Granted, it’s not the same satisfaction as he gets watching Dwight’s body stretch around his cock, but all the same, it does the job. Dwight has since stopped moving, is a little frozen in place with one hand lightly fisting into Ash’s navy blue shirt. He lets out a breath, slow and even, and pushes back into Ash’s hand and that’s when he knows that he’s free to give him more. A small snort from the older man and he’s curving his finger to try and get his knuckle to brush Dwight’s prostate; it’s hard in this position, at this angle, and he’s not so sure he can do it the way the kid wants. Regardless, it doesn’t stop a warm sound from rumbling in Dwight’s throat, so Ash gives those few precursory slides of his finger before he’s adding a second. No preamble, no warning. Dwight’s breath stutters again and he arches his back, head dipping close to Ash’s, temple almost against other man’s cheek. Ash tilts his head enough to press his cheek against Dwight’s hair, and Dwight presses back in silent acknowledgement.

Yeah, he’s definitely in trouble, isn’t he? That’s really unfortunate.  
  
The older man tries to focus on what he’s doing instead of the way Dwight’s breathing feels against his neck but that turns out to be more difficult than he’s anticipated when he finally finds a good angle and the leader is tensing momentarily. He never reacts immediately, needs to be built up to that, but there’s something like desperation in him when he grinds back again. This continues for a few moments until Dwight is letting out those soft little keening sounds and starts subconsciously fucking himself against Ash’s fingers. Another bite to Dwight’s shoulder, this time harder and leaving red marks in its wake, and he lightly taps Dwight’s thigh with his prosthetic—he really misses the chainsaw, if he’s being honest, but that would be inappropriate right now. Dwight is momentarily dazed, offering a bite of his own at the base of Ash’s jaw—lighter than the one he received—and he moves back, sitting up straighter and forcing Ash’s fingers deeper. He shudders and Ash can finally see his face; flushed to his ears, a gentle pink that’s inching towards his collarbones. His glasses are askew and Ash knows he should take them off but if Dwight hasn’t moved to do so yet, then he doesn’t want to. Ash thinks it’s because Dwight grows too sensitive when he can’t really see what’s being done, so he resolves to take them off later whether the kid wants it or not.

His fingers slip free, sticky still, and Dwight knows what that means. He slides down, stands on unsteady legs, and gets himself out of his clothes almost too quickly. His gaze shifts to Ash’s hands as they work his button and zipper and he lightly chews on his lower lip. Dwight can’t even bring himself to care that he’s naked and Ash is not; _doesn’t_ matter. That’s exactly what he tells himself as he licks his lips and settles his hands on Ash’s knees. He drops to his own, thankfully kneeling against his shirt, and the second Ash works himself out of his pants, Dwight chases the hands with his tongue. He hears Ash swear above him ( _Fucking, Christ, kid._ ) as he bends to halo the head of the other’s cock with his mouth. Dwight’s eyes fall shut and he grabs either side of Ash’s open pants to steady himself while he sinks down, slowly. Ash has had the thought before—he couldn’t have been Dwight’s first, because the leader was far, far too good at this—but he’s heard from Dwight’s own lips that he was. Maybe he was just a quick learner; that was also a thought he had. But goddamn if he doesn’t suck dick like he’s been doing it his whole life.

What Ash doesn’t want to admit is that, while he knows all those things that make Dwight fall to pieces, Dwight knows the same of him. He knows that Ash likes to look down and watch him, likes to sometimes hold his chin and tip his head back, angle his neck so that Dwight can take him down his throat. More than that, he knows that if he looks up at him while he does it he’s rewarded with the other’s heated gaze. So he glances up briefly, feels Ash twitch against his tongue, can see the way his jaw clenches.

Ash has to wonder: where is this Dwight when they were in trials? Where is the Dwight that has no trouble being a cheeky little fuck, an absolute little _demon_ because he _knows_ what his face does to Ash. Then again this and that are two different things. In a trial he’s not out sucking some killer’s dick, which might be useful in getting them out, but the very idea makes Ash want to retch. It makes him think too much about all the Deadites that had such a hard-on for him and how much he would rather not fuck a deteriorating corpse, thank you very much. He has his kinks but that isn’t one of them.

Almost too soon, Dwight has had enough and he’s getting to his feet again. Once more he climbs into Ash’s lap and Ash notes the splintered insides of the tree were probably going to scrape the kid’s knees if he isn’t careful. At this point, though, Ash can’t be sure Dwight really cares. He definitely doesn’t care as Dwight takes the jelly from him and scoops out the rest, tossing the container aside, and reaches for his cock. Ash hisses and Dwight looks towards him for a split second; he can swear he sees the ghost of a nervy little smirk before its gone in a flash. He really has awoken a powerful demon and he was absolutely a man possessed.

At least this time he knows he isn’t going to wind up dead—then suddenly he hears, breathy and rushed, "Ready, _daddy_?"—and for _fuck’s sake_ maybe he **was** going to die.

This kid was going to put him in the fucking _grave_ and he was not going to come back this time. He’s faced Deadites, Freddy Kreuger, Jason Voorhees, fucking _Cthulu_ , not to mention various evil versions of himself, but none of those things even held a candle to Dwight Fairfield. Ash finds himself equally enamored by the idea as much as he is disgusted by it and it obviously shows on his face because it’s Dwight’s turn to chuckle. Ah, he was absolutely going to pay for that later, the little shit.

Dwight rearranges himself, presses in close, and turns to look behind him. Warm fingers angle his cock and Ash stops breathing for a few seconds while the younger male eases himself down. Dwight’s biting his lip, torso still twisted so he can roll back once he feels he’s got enough of Ash’s cock in him, and Ash takes this opportunity to watch him. Both hands slide up Dwight’s waist—one still slightly slick from jelly, the other chilling him where the metal touches—as the younger man lowers himself and comes to a stop when Ash is fully sheathed. He’s as tight and warm as ever, and Ash makes an appreciative sound while his hands head further up. Dwight’s too preoccupied with breathing and subtly rolling his hips to notice their destination, but when Ash’s thumbs brush his nipples Dwight’s thighs tighten on either side of the man’s hips. He almost looks startled, his brown eyes dark with how his pupils are blown wide, and if that isn’t goddamn beautiful. A crisp little sound forces it’s way past his lips and Ash does it again, watching the way Dwight almost folds on himself. Then, suddenly, Dwight is trembling, his breath rushing out of him, fingers grabbing hard at Ash’s shirt. 

At first, Ash isn’t entirely sure what just happened; but it hits him very suddenly and with a dark and perverse sense of satisfaction. He bears a grin that’s all teeth, "Did you just cum?"

Dwight stiffens, legs still trembling a little, and almost chokes when Ash holds his waist and grinds him harder. He parts his lips in a pant, eyes a little hazy, and his own hands drop to grab Ash’s wrists. He’s gotten Dwight to do this before, ever since he found out the kid could, but usually that involved some sort of consistent stimulation; he’s only just gotten his dick wet and and Dwight was losing it. He hears a weak, distant apology, and Ash’s brows furrow in confusion. Ah, has he given the impression he was upset by it? Far from that, actually, he loves that he can reduce Dwight to nothing but whimpers and moans. He temporarily forgets that the younger man needs validation and assurance and performing to peak expectations is what he expects of himself.

He’s closing in on himself a little again and Ash frowns slightly; that isn’t what he’d wanted to happen. He’ll never consider himself a smart man but he did go to college for engineering and he’s realized the human body works a lot like machinery. If just one little thing isn’t balanced properly you can throw off the entire project and Dwight’s had his insides electrified over and over again. A slight rearrangement of neurons and synapses could throw off your entire chemical make-up—don’t ask how he’s come to that conclusion, but it suddenly seems very logical. In a rare display of intimacy, he moves his hand from Dwight’s waist to cup his cheek and he feels Dwight tip into it’s warmth. The look in his eyes is glossy at best, but Ash can see he’s feeling shy.  
  
"Doc Carter really got to you, didn’t he?" he asks and Dwight lets out a weak breath, nods into his hand. Ash runs his thumb first over the curve of a heated cheek and then lower, brushing slowly over a slightly swollen bottom lip—red from how Dwight’s been digging his teeth into it. Dwight’s started rocking his hips again and he lets out a wet breath. There’s a good chance he’s going to turn Dwight off with this, but its a fifty-fifty shot and his odds are pretty good. "You need daddy to make it all better?"

" _Please_ ," Dwight moans in such a wanton way that it sounds like he’s just found fucking Nirvana and the mere tone of it goes straight to Ash’s dick. This kid could act in porno and Ash would buy every single one for that voice alone.

Ash grunts as he takes hold of the backs of Dwight’s thighs again. He lifts him up a few inches, feeling Dwight’s thighs flex as he allows it, and then tugs him back down. Dwight pitches forward a little with another moan. He sets a slow pace that Dwight takes over after that, his hands gripping Ash’s shoulders again for help. He lets Dwight do all the work, can’t really do much sitting like this anyway, and shifts his hands to the other’s thighs. Thumbs rub circles into sensitive skin and the kid is placated again. With a low hum, Ash surveys the mark he’d left on the right side of Dwight’s neck, watches as it’s steadily blossoming purple before his eyes. The older man pulls Dwight in suddenly by his waist and he can feel Dwight arch, knows that his cock is dripping onto a shirt that’s seen blood and tears and vomit—cum was going to be the least of his worries—and attaches himself to the other side; this time higher up so that it’ll be seen above the collar of any shirt he wears.  
  
"You think you can do it again?"

Dwight’s confused for a moment, lets out an _ah_ in question before a small _oh_ of realization. He nods a few times as he fucks himself back on Ash’s cock again, canting himself at a different angle each time until it seems he’s hit the right one. The only thing that keeps Ash from losing his shit is the desire to watch Dwight all the way through it. He knows how long Dwight can keep this up but he, well, he can only last so long. As it stands he wants to do as he said and make it better but for now he wants to let Dwight tire himself out a bit before he seals the deal. He knows what Dwight is going to want and he wants to prepare for it in turn.

There’s a monotony that Dwight gets lost in when he’s left to control the situation. His eyes flutter closed while he gives into feeling and its a beautiful thing to watch him enjoy it. Ash’s eyes are concentrated on his face and the way he furrows his brows, alternates between opening his mouth to let out soft sounds and biting at the corner of his lip to chewing on it completely, and how smoothly his whole body moves while he chases his need for gratification. Ash also notes he hasn’t reached down to touch himself yet and that’s because he’s waiting for permission. Ash reminds himself to let Dwight know what a good boy he’s been because that always flips some kind of switch in him.

He’s so fiercely impressed when Dwight suddenly stills and shakes, doubling over, his forehead hitting Ash’s chest. Something like a sob rips from his throat and Ash can feel his body going through the motions; the momentary tightening has him gritting his teeth and going rigid because god fucking damn. A glimpse of Dwight’s cock tells him that he’s twitching, the need to actually cum has him in a death grip, and this time his orgasm isn’t entirely dry but definitely not enough to sate him. Ash thinks that if there’s really a Heaven, this is one of the things he wants when he gets there—and who is he kidding, he’s never getting into Heaven that’s for sure, but maybe someone will pity him enough to grace him with this in Hell, too.

All he needs is beer, weed, the body he used to have, and Dwight _fucking_ Fairfield.

It’s too bad he isn’t a poet because he could write sonnets for this boy but has to settle for just giving him what he wants instead. Not that Ash believes he’s really what Dwight needs, but he’s kind of glad that Dwight thinks so. Disgusting, was that just a sappy thought? No room for those here, no thanks. He’s lost in his own head as Dwight calms himself down a bit, which gives him time to calm down as well, before the younger’s voice is vibrating around him. He blinks a few times, looks at him and notices the viciously desperate face he’s making. Its almost fucking insidious how he can do this without even realizing that he could have any of the men at the campfire. Any one of them would fall over themselves to get even a singular look at a moment like this. Too bad for them it was all his.

"Ash," Dwight insists, as though he’s been saying the man’s name over and over. He gathers two fistfuls of the solid denim shirt with trembling hands. Ash knows the games are over now, that Dwight really needs him, and he’s offering a grin before Dwight even says anything. He doesn’t ask, he **demands** with an almost punched out breath: " _Fuck me._ "

He can’t deny that, he really, **really** can’t. And its not just because he enjoys sex, because that much is obvious, but because it’s Dwight. This kid who’s had all this shit thrust upon him—leadership, responsibility, and so many others he wants to take care of—deserves something more than the constant grief of seeing his friends die. Ash knows what that’s like and it would be a serious shame if Dwight were to come out of this as embittered as him. So, if he can provide just one little glimpse of light in this fucking hellhole that Dwight can look forward to, he’s going to do it. He owes Dwight that much, he thinks. Arrogance and self-important delusions aside, he isn’t the main character here and it took some time for him to realize. He may be stupid when it comes to most things, he’s smart enough to know that they’d all be nowhere if it wasn’t for Dwight. So if Dwight wants him (and maybe that’s a stupid choice, but he’s free to make it) then he’s not going to try and convince him he shouldn’t.

He slides his arms under Dwight’s thighs as much as he can, and Dwight leans forward to loop his arms around the older man’s neck. Here’s where he really gets to see where Dwight’s strength lay and its all in his legs—he vaguely recalls that the kid has mentioned he was a pizza delivery boy for a while and didn’t drive a car but rode a bicycle—because Dwight helps support himself as Ash scoops him up by tightening his knees at Ash’s waist. They don’t have far to go, it’s just down off the stump and onto the grass (or Dwight’s clothes, as it were), but Ash is still surprised he has any strength left in him. He’d be damned if Dwight didn’t sometimes make him feel like he was twenty again. Obviously he’s very aware that he’s not, that he’s in his fifties, but Dwight hasn’t seemed to even notice. Then again, maybe he was into older dudes from the start? Ash didn’t really stop to ask. Regardless, he lowers himself to his knees and sits back, letting Dwight tip himself into the grass. His glasses are gone in a flash, almost ripped from his face and tossed beside them.

With Dwight’s legs propped on his own he runs his hands up the insides of his thighs and stops at his hips. He smirks down at him, knows full well that Dwight can barely see and that’s perfect, because he’s forced to just feel rather than worry about how he looks while he’s doing it. Dwight squirms and Ash takes that as the sign he should actually do as he was ordered. Everything up until this point feels like a tease because now he can thrust the full length of his cock into the other’s body and Dwight positively keens. He’s grabbing onto the shirt underneath him and mewling like the kitten Ash likens him to. He knows he’s doing this for Dwight but it doesn’t stop him from groaning low in his throat and hiking Dwight’s legs a little higher to get a better angle. The leader is so strung out that Ash knows he’s barely going to last and knows how badly he’s waiting for that permission to touch himself. Propping himself on his hands, Ash moves one to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt when the heat of his own flush becomes almost unbearable.

His breath is heavy and Dwight’s is littered with moans that create a stunning counterpoint and thankfully they’re so far from camp that the others can’t hear them. He hopes, at least. He wouldn’t care but he knows Dwight would be mortified—it’s one thing for your friends to know you’re fucking, another for them to hear or catch you in the act. Besides, the very greedy part of him knows he would hate for anyone else to see Dwight like this. He’s so dick drunk that Ash isn’t sure he’s coherent enough to follow along anymore, but he’s meeting Ash’s thrusts and Ash watches him move, grinding his lithe frame in time. Ash reaches out and just barely strokes Dwight’s cock which has the man choking on a gasp. Dwight’s hand shoots out to stop Ash and the older man clucks his tongue but relinquishes his hold. So, he’s not ready yet, then.  
  
"Harder," is the curt demand he gets and Ash grumbles a little but complies.

He has to adjust his position again, dropping to his forearms and essentially caging Dwight with his arms. Now they’re sharing breathing space and he can watch the emotions flit over the other’s face more clearly. Plus, Dwight can see him, if only a little. He brushes sweat slicked hair from Dwight’s forehead and Dwight slides down a little, back arched, so he can accommodate the way Ash’s thrusts now rock him. Ash huffs against his lips, finding that the low timbre of his voice makes Dwight shudder, "I’m gonna break my damn hip fucking you one day."

Dwight laughs, breathless and high, and it’s a sound that Ash suddenly wants to positively devour, "Th-the Entity will— _ah!_ —f-fix it for you, I…I’m sure."  
  
"You’re such a little shit."

It’s all he can manage right now and it causes another laugh that turns into a staggering, broken sound when Ash’s thrusts turn almost brutal. He’s found the right spot, knows he has, when Dwight’s thighs start shaking and his moans reach a fevered pitch. He can’t keep him on the edge forever, no matter how deliciously sinful he looked like this, so he rocks to one side and plucks Dwight’s hand from its white-knuckle grip on the shirt under him. He drags it down while he bends to find Dwight’s ear, "You’ve been a real good boy. I wanna see you cum for me."

Dwight bites hard at his bottom lip, fingers wrapping around himself immediately—his reaction is so instantaneous that Ash almost misses it. He startles them both with how fast he snaps to action when Dwight throws a hand over his mouth to stifle his cries. It’s pinned above his head in a flash and Dwight is caught off guard, sending a wide-eyed look Ash’s way. Whatever face he’s made it causes Dwight shudder all over, a feeble tug at the grip Ash has on his wrist. He doesn’t relent, but does slide his fingers up so he can tangle them between Dwight’s and that causes another full-body shudder.  
  
"I want to hear you. Keep going," the words are meant to leave no room for discussion, but he feels Dwight’s protest before he even opens his mouth.  
  
"N-no, but—"

" _Dwight_ ," his insides tighten in response to his name and internally Ash gloats over his triumph. "It’s just us right now. Scream if you gotta."  
  
He doesn’t scream and what he does do is so much **better** , somehow.

Ash can see the muscles in his arm working as he does that amazing thing where he twists his wrist just so (Ash knows because he likes when it’s done to him) and all it takes is a few strokes before he’s all but seizing; Ash thinks he may have stopped breathing. It is, by far, the sexiest fucking thing he’s ever seen—which might be an exaggeration—but in this moment, Ash doesn’t think he’s seen anything that even comes close. Ash makes sure to slow his movements, settling for burying himself as deep as he can get and grinding his hips slowly as Dwight rides out his release. Normally, things aren’t this intense, but Ash has already realized that Dwight didn’t really just need sex, he needed catharsis. It wasn’t just about The Doctor anymore; something worse happened to him and he had just been unable to handle it properly.

Even still, this is like poetry in motion.  
  
Dwight’s shoulders bunch, collarbones becoming more defined and Ash wants to leave bruises on them but refrains. The pink of his aroused flush finally drips down to his chest, and he tries to tilt away like he wants to curl in on himself but just can’t manage. There’s a sharp, hitching sob that follows shortly thereafter while he spills into his hand and against his stomach; Ash watches his abdomen quiver and wets his lips. He sits back briefly, gently runs a soothing hand up and down Dwight’s side while he trembles through his aftershocks. This time there are tears in his eyes now, racing tracks against his reddened cheeks, and Ash moves to catch them with his thumb. Dwight cants his head into the cool feel of Ash’s prosthetic, the softest murmur of the other man’s name, and Ash hums his assurance; "You’re alright, I got you."

Ash goes to pull out so he can jerk himself off in the mess Dwight’s already made but Dwight beats him to the draw. He quickly wipes his hand on his own shirt and throws both arms around Ash’s shoulders before the other man can move. Hooking his legs around the backs of Ash’s own, he keeps him pinned there for a few seconds while his chest heaves and his heart pounds. There’s confusion for a brief moment before Ash is sighing and sliding his hands down so he can lift Dwight’s legs back into place, fingers digging into his thighs with barely contained restraint. He’s made aware of how painfully hard he is and how perfectly tight Dwight still is.

"You sure?" he asks, and they both know what he means. Dwight just nods tiredly and Ash huffs a breath against his lips. "Remember that answer later when you’re complaining about cleaning up."

Dwight’s little chuckle goes mostly unnoticed as Ash picks up right where he left off—this time it’s about Ash and Dwight’s just along for the ride. His pace is rough, feels almost like a punishment, but Dwight knows that’s just his oversensitive body protesting. If he’s being honest, he likes it anyway. Ash is moaning in his ear, the heat of his breath lights his skin on fire, and Dwight drags him down even further. Ash drops his forehead and breathes curses into his shoulder, a little bit of praise, and Dwight bites his lip until he feels the other man’s thrusts growing erratic. When Ash cums its with a sharp _fuck!_ that floods Dwight’s stomach with heat and a hard thrust that has Ash’s fingers undoubtedly leaving bruises on his thighs as he holds him tight. If Dwight weren’t already fully spent, he may have cum again from just the experience of it all. This time he gives Ash time to catch his breath, which he does while biting more hickeys into Dwight’s neck.  
  
When he’s finally recovered enough to speak, Ash lightly thumps his forehead against Dwight’s, his smile rather smug, "Feel better?"

Of course he knows the answer, but Dwight smiles back and its something soft and affectionate. Ash feels a bit laid bare by it but he doesn’t outright reject the attention because there’s no way he ever could. But he knows that Dwight’s mouth is going to drip with a honeyed sweetness that he can only attribute to a post-coital haze, so he stops it before it can even happen. He takes Dwight’s chin between his fingers and tips his head so he can kiss the sugar right from his lips. The sound the younger man makes is reverent and, boy, does he not deserve that. Dwight tastes like candy and Ash hates to admit this is just as much of an addiction as anything else.  
  
So, Ash drinks the love straight from his mouth and, that way, Dwight doesn’t have to give it a name.

**Author's Note:**

> a gift for some nerd i know because she's a hoe for ash and i'm a hoe for dwight so it works. my tumblr doesn't house anything but rooster teeth content, but if you've got dbd on xbox add my ass (ACTUAL DWIGHT) and come harass me in game. thanks for reading 💕


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